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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137911">Unexpected Beauty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sireniana/pseuds/Sireniana'>Sireniana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sireniana/pseuds/Sireniana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always Beauty. Beauty was the favorite, the best of them. Sophia might as well have been a hat stand in comparison. But Sophia's not about to let her Sister pay for her mistakes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OC/OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Giggles and Gardens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Life really is grand." She smiled, whisking through the gardens, a new admirer giggling as they darted through the greenery. Lady Syche's balls were always the most amusing affairs, as well as a perfect opportunity to find a new companion. </p><p> </p><p>This evening, Sophia Marchand's "conquest" was a young German of high standing, who was all too eager to abandon the graces of the dance for more jovial pastimes. These included the usual amount of petty theft, as well as scandalous runs through Lady Syche's rose garden. While the man's laugh was quick, and his manners genteel, he was far too bland, to the point that her mind did not bother to remember even his name. As such, Sophia soon grew tired of romping, and used a game of hide and seek to promptly vanish. </p><p> </p><p>As Miss Marchand scurried through the winding paths, she thought with delight of the rest of her evening. The plans of which included a luxurious hot bath, as well as picking her abandoned conquest to pieces with her elder sister. Finally, Sophia traipsed up to the gate, where her usual carriage was waiting for her. George, the Marchand's elderly footman, smiling as the young woman bustled up, still rather out of breath. "Did you enjoy yourself, Mistress Sophia? he asked politely, although his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Why, of course, it was a splendid affair, now get me home." George raised a single eyebrow. "Please?" Nodding, he opened the door for her, allowing the rather indignant girl to step inside. George always was a stickler for manners. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pleasantries and Fears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He what?!" Maddie snickered, as she and Sophia engaged in their usual gossip session. Their Father walked by, hearing the hissing interspersed by fits of giggles. Shaking his head, he mumbled something about "some poor sap" before continuing on his overdue journey to bed. </p><p> </p><p>An hour or so later, his middle daughter began the same trip, a smile broken only by a yawn. The poor man had been utterly verbally dissected. Despite the sharp ( and rather fast) tongues the two girls possessed, their criticisms would not be carried out into the world by other such tongues. </p><p> </p><p>The hall had long since left the warm light of twilight behind, filling instead with blackness that rivaled even Maddie's often fluttering lashes. Carefully, her thoughts still on her amusing conversation with Maddie, Sophia's toe caught on something  just outside her older sister's door.  After recovering her balance, she identified it as a gift addressed to Maddie, from a certain adoring gentleman. </p><p> </p><p>The gentleman in question was a Mr. Haynes, or Charlie, as Maddie fondly referred to him. She often gushed over his newest gift or his charming smile. Sophia's references to him were rare, and even then only to appease Maddie. The man's intentions were obvious, Haynes wanted to marry her sister, although whether he found the gold of her hair or her wallet more attractive, Sophia could not say. </p><p> </p><p>What she could say, however, was that she did not trust Mr. Haynes in the slightest. Why, Sophia was unsure. His teeth and boots were as shiny as the gilded coins he threw around as though they were merely pocket change. And while the Marchand's were by no means poor, their Father's earnings in a year amounted to only five hundred of those coveted circles, while Mr. Haynes earned at least a thousand more. </p><p> </p><p>Shaking her head, Sophia tried resolutely to put the irritating man out of her head. She never liked to think about marriage, it was too much for convenience, and often did not bring the happiness promised. Perhaps she should have listened more to her governesses advice to avoid fictional stories, but why couldn't people marry for love? There she went again, ranting about something she couldn't change. Sophia sighed and continued down the dark corridor to her room. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ill-Founded Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A BEAUTYful morning and an afformentioned snake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She awoke to the sound of someone whistling. Pulling her pillow over her ears, she tried ignoring the unsuccessful attempt at "Greensleeves". </p><p> </p><p>"Morning!" The whistler chirped, in a voice brighter than the sunlight currently assaulting Sophia's eyes. "Morning Beauty" Sophia yawned "Mind practicing your shrilling elsewhere?" "Nope!" Beauty grinned, quickly snatching Sophia's only defense. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey!" Sophia grumbled, clumsily reaching for the stolen pillow. "Come on, it's too early for this!" Beauty glanced dubiously at the window, through which the sun shone, already almost halfway through it's arch. "If this is too early, I think you need to change your idea of "too late". Then, ignoring Sophia's cries for mercy, she swept from the room, curls shaking from her mirth. </p><p> </p><p>Grumbling fiercely, Sophia rolled out of her bed, which had never felt more comfortable. Before her frustration could increase, a warm sunbeam broke through the grey chill of early morning, and landed directly on her face. The warmth was comforting, but her eyes quickly protested. </p><p> </p><p>Ducking away from the light, Sophia glanced around at her large room. Papered in a soft blue, the main feature was an exquisite view of the grove of birch trees standing in a wonderfully disorganized clump. "Speaking of disorganized." Sophia thought, glancing around at the rest of her room. </p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes of cleaning later, punctuated by mutterings about her "loon of a sister" Sophia stumbled to the dining room. There she found several muffins, a small bowl of fruit, and a note. The note merely reminded her that punctuality was far more fitting for a lady than lateness. Sophia's mouth quirked upward, having seen and heard this exact message some hundred times had rather lessened its effect on her. </p><p> </p><p>The day dragged onward, as Sophia meandered through the usual sewing practice, reading to her Father, ( who's eyes were not what they used to be) and listening to Maddie fawn over "Charlie's" latest gift. Her only comfort were the new pencils she found on her desk, with a kind message from her Father thanking her for her reading. Her eyes lit as she held the lovely things in her hand, thinking with excitement of all she could create with them. </p><p> </p><p>Resisting the urge to run, Sophia speed walked toward her Father's office, where the paper was kept. As she was turning the handle, though, she heard an unpleasantly familiar voice. </p><p> </p><p>It was Haynes, and from the sharpness of his tone, she knew exactly why he was here. Having seen the man's interest in Maddie, Mr. Marchand had entrusted Mr. Haynes with control over his newest business venture. Sophia tried to warn him, but her Father brushed aside his concerns, claiming Mr. Haynes reputation as a shrewd businessman was not to be doubted. Despite Sophia's insistence that his "shrewd" dealings could also be referred to as embezzling. Even Beauty could not sway him, although he listened to her in almost every matter. </p><p> </p><p>Despite all his naive trust, it still took a great deal of time for Mr. Haynes thievery to affect their bank account. That particular adventure was the last straw. It had ended disastrously, and from what Mr. Haynes snapped at her Father, Sophia realized that this was no longer a "we'll try better next time situation". </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Change and Irritation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Life is complicated and crazy, even (and especially) for fictional characters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unfortunately, Sophia was right. In less than four days her Father went from one of the top merchants in the city, to poorer than some of the people who lived in hovels they occasionally passed. Mr. Haynes used the same charming smile he had used on her sister to win the court case. It took them those four days to pack their necessary belongings and to auction off the others. </p><p> </p><p>With the money they earned from selling the treasures they had so long taken for granted, the Marchands were just able to afford a small cottage in a little town near the sea. </p><p> </p><p>After seventeen years of luxury, Sophia's life was ripped away in less than a week. As she and her family crowded into a rented wagon, she squeezed her beloved, unused pencils, and sobbed. </p><p> </p><p>The ride was slow and bumpy, muddled with a mixture of slow falling rain and fast falling tears. Through the tears, Sophia was vaguely aware of Beauty singing a lullaby, of a pressure on her hand, and an arm around her shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>"Sophia! We're here!" Groggily, she opened her heavy eyes, rubbing away the sleep crusting their lids. "Whaaaaa…. oh." She straightened, groaning at the soreness in her muscles. Clumsily, she jumped out of the wagon with a thump, her silken slippers having been replaced by rough boots. Sophia stretched again, before blearily examining her new home. </p><p> </p><p>A small cottage greeted her, its dusty golden brown walls, and the puffy grey smoke pouring out of the chimney giving it a cheerful appearance. Behind the cottage, the rest of the village stood, about a kilometer away. From there, woods and fields alternated in a stretch of green that seemed to run forever. </p><p> </p><p> While still rather doleful, Sophia felt a muted sense of interest in this warm little house. Grabbing her satchel, she followed her family towards their new home. </p><p> </p><p>The first months were torture. Maddie locked herself in her room, bemoaning the loss of her perpetual rain of gifts. Sophia was forced to store her pencils away under a loose floorboard, as the main household chores fell on her. The long dreary hours of the sewing practice she so detested had finally come in handy. </p><p> </p><p> Beauty bustled everywhere, cheering when she could, and working when she couldn't. The garden was her domain, and she spent every moment tending to her plants sometimes talking to them, as she thought it would encourage them. </p><p> </p><p>Beauty's other pet project was their Father. The same man who had gotten them into this mess in the first place, who now let the work fall upon his daughters. His once lively manner was replaced with that of someone who was in his own story, the victim, although their plight was entirely caused by his gullibility. </p><p> </p><p>Despite this, Beauty waited on him constantly, always making sure he was warm and comfortable. Her never failing kindness and docility grated in Sophia's nerves, as well as her Father's increasingly obvious favoritism of Beauty. Sophia did not deny that it was well earned. Yet, in spite of her growing disdain for her Father's actions, the desire for him to acknowledge her was not destroyed. But she pushed it away, pushing down her emotions until it became too much, and they exploded. </p><p> </p><p>The explosion occurred several months after settling into the cottage. Sophia's attempts to bite back her ever increasing frustration at their new situation had caused a build up inside of her, one she hoped would never break. </p><p> </p><p>Beauty had just burst into the house, covered in mud and leaves, holding the newest fruits of her labor. But Sophia did not see the beautiful vegetables her sister had worked so hard to grow. She only saw the mud slopping onto her newly mopped kitchen floor, the way Beauty seemed untroubled by the mess she was making, and the way her Father looked at Beauty with a pride Sophia had not once seen directed at her. </p><p> </p><p>"Beauty" Sophia managed through gritted teeth "You're making a mess." Beauty looked down, seeming to just notice that her dress was turning the kitchen floor into a swamp. "Oh! Sorry Soph, but look at these!" Beauty eagerly displayed her vegetables. Sophia took a deep breath, and was about to calm down when- "Those are wonderful, Beauty! Sophia, why can't you ever work hard like your sister?" </p><p> </p><p>That was the last straw. Months of pent up frustrations burst in one catastrophic scream. </p><p> </p><p>"I have!! Have you gone blind as well as bankrupt? Last time I checked, you have clothes, a warm fire, and a clean house! You know why? Because I get up every morning to make sure of it! The most work you ever do is getting between that blasted chair and your bedroom!" </p><p> </p><p>Before her Father inevitably decided to deny all of her well placed accusations, Sophia was long gone. And if Maddie heard muffled screaming from the room next to hers, or Mr. Marchand found a rather unkind note slipped under the door when he tried to talk to Sophia later, no one said anything about it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Managing Wares and Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yes, Sophia's father is a douche. But she's not going to let that stop her from making a friend!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>But it was okay. While her outburst did not completely change her Father's self pity, the coins they managed to save doubled. Beauty's successful gardening, Sophia's less than awful sewing, and eventually Maddie's baking, allowed for a small stand at the town market. </p><p> </p><p>The customers were generally kind, and even Maddie had to admit that their new friends were far kinder than the city girls they had been obliged to be friendly to. </p><p> </p><p>"Sophia! What on earth are you doing?" Lilith squealed. A short, ruddy girl who had helped Sophia greatly with her sewing, Lilith had promptly adopted Sophia. This supposed adoption had come with general motherly scolding, which Sophia countered with teasings regarding whether she needed a "second mother". Now, however, Sophia admitted she was being a bit reckless. She was perched about fifteen feet up a magnificent white oak tree, which she had looked at longingly for quite some time. </p><p> </p><p>"For goodness sakes, Sophia! You're seventeen, not seven! Get down here-" Lilith's tirade abruptly stopped as, with a grin, Sophia carefully climbed down. A year ago, she would never have been able to even reach the second branch. But months of long walks to town, setting up their wooden stall every week, and occasionally helping her Father with his recent carpentry, had been far better for her than any proper matron would believe. </p><p> </p><p>The scolding lasted all the way back to her house, speckled with Sophia's usual teasings. "If you keep this up, none of the boys will look at you with anything more than scorn." Lilith scoffed fondly. "Sorry Mother, dear, you'll have to rely on one of my sisters for grandchildren." </p><p> </p><p>Before Lilith could respond, Sophia ducked into the house. Giggling, she slipped into the kitchen, from which a delicious smell practically dragged her in. "Absolutely not." Maddie snapped automatically. "Not until you tell me if you saw Francis today." "I don't know what you're talking about." Sophia said smoothly, hand sliding away from the cooling loaf of bread. "Liar, you need new tricks to pull that. But tell me, and you can have some." "My, my, only a few months and already over your darling Charlie?" Sophia queried innocently. </p><p> </p><p>Whirling on her, Maddie waved her spatula teasingly. "Out of my kitchen you little vixen!" Biting back a smile, Sophia fled to the sound of Maddie's raucous laughter. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wishes and Wonderings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sophia's Dad is mean (again) but have no fear! Beasty will scare the crap out of him shortly. Love you my dearest reader!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stopping at last, Sophia collapsed onto one of their few chairs, which creaked in indignation at her rapid seating. Breathing a sigh, she reached into the nearby basket for her sewing tools. While she still abhorred it, its routine nature was almost comforting. Before she could even thread her needle though, the front door opened to reveal her Father, just home from his carpentry shop. </p><p> </p><p>Before she could even muster a greeting he rushed at her, sweeping her up into a hug. "Father what-" she began, but he left her no time to question his unusual actions. "Our ship!" He bellowed laughing "One of our clerks wasn't putting our money into ol' Charles pockets! The ship he ran came in safe and he's told me to come at once!" </p><p> </p><p>"That's wonderful!"  Sophia beamed. Before any more could be said, her sisters practically flew into the room.  After the tornado of skirts calmed, they all seated themselves relatively calmly. Through the incessant squealing of his daughters, Mr. Marchand read the letter. </p><p> </p><p>"It's true!" Sophia thought, smiling at the parchment as her Father attempted to calm her sisters. The plain signature of a clerk had never seemed so elegant. "We'll go back to the city, everything will go back to the way it was!" Maddie exclaimed, bouncing in excitement. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia frowned slightly. Did Maddie really want things to go back to before the bankruptcy? To go back to all those suitors who begged like puppies for her attention? Maybe Maddie liked the constant affection, but once she married… Well Sophia was always second for everything. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly the idea of going back to the city didn't seem so appealing. </p><p> </p><p>The next few hours were a whirl of excited rambling and frantically helping their Father pack. Finally, when Sophia was certain she'd go crazy if Maddie or Beauty uttered one more word about the city, they were saying goodbyes. Amongst the various hugs, kisses, and "Be safe!" the Marchand girls were surprised to hear; "Is there anything you girls would want me to bring home if this goes as planned?" </p><p> </p><p>"Mr. Haynes head on a silver platter." Maddie piped in. They all laughed, raucous amusement absorbed by the sparse furnishings. </p><p> </p><p>"That thieving serpent doesn't deserve the silver." Mr.Marchand said half seriously. "But, really. Is there anything you girls want?" </p><p> </p><p>Maddie muttered something about ribbons and white flour, while Beauty eagerly asked for a rose. "There are none here, and I miss them so."</p><p> </p><p>Sophia opened her mouth, not sure what she intended to say, when their Father interrupted. "Well, that's settled. Goodbye girls! Take care of the place, would you?" </p><p> </p><p>With that he was gone, and Sophia wondered whether she and the hat stand were any different in his eyes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Journey and a Discovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jerk Face travels and gets smacked with tons of karma.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Marchand's journey proved to be a long and lonely trip. As he passed through the fifth forest on his route, he found listening more closely to the stillness, straining for even the faintest sound. But nothing met his ears but the faint crunching of leaves under his horse's hooves. </p><p> </p><p>When, at last, he caught sight of the lights of the city, the former merchant felt either his heart would burst, or his tear ducts would. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, after finagling the price of a room with a cross inn keeper, Mr. Marchand collapsed  onto a cramped bed, the firmness of which seemed comparable to the hard woods he had taken to working with. He only just had time to notice these things before his body stopped caring and he began his usual routine of snoring loud 9enough to raise the dead. </p><p> </p><p> A very long, and well needed, night of sleep later, and he started on his journey once again. </p><p> </p><p>This time the loneliness grated on him much faster, and his thoughts drifted like a seed caught on a breeze. When his sanity had lowered to just above straight jacket level, the tall gaudy houses of the town that the Marchands once occupied loomed above him. </p><p> </p><p>Now, though, the elegant architecture and well dressed residents, who had once been only the welcoming trappings of his home town, sneered down at him. Mr. Marchand, former merchant extraordinaire, was suddenly very aware of the dirt of travel, the frayed shirt, and the clunky work boots which adorned his dusty form. </p><p> </p><p>Embarrassed, he blushed slightly, but marched on resolutely. Finally, he reached his final destination, a large port housing numerous ships of all shapes, sizes, as well as bearing varied cargoes from many local and exotic places. </p><p> </p><p>Glancing along the line of vessels, Mr. Marchand felt his already lowered heart sink deep into his boots. There, resting at the dock that he had owned seemingly a lifetime time ago, sat a pile of damaged timber resembling a pile of firewood more than any seaworthy craft. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Roads and Riches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mr. Marchand is not exactly happy about his continued poverty, but then stumbles upon a place where lack of wealth is not an issue at all.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bargaining resembled a plea more than an agreement among equals. Mr. Marchand poked and prodded and begged untill he at last scrounged enough couns to cover his return journey. </p><p> </p><p>Stumbling into an inn after a long day of kissing up to the men, who, only a few years ago he had only seen down the end of his long nose, he collapsed at a crooked table. Throwing a few coins on it's splinter-ridden surface, he mumbled something about ale. </p><p> </p><p>A night's length often seems different to those in different positions, and Mr. Marchands night proved to be a lengthy one in drinking only. He arose early the next morning, tripping over his own feet and snarling words he would not have used in proper company. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, after many a bruise had been created, James R. Marchand had finished dressing and shoving what clothes he was not wearing into a torn and crumpled bag. </p><p> </p><p>Within the hour, he had underpaid the inn's fee, snapped at two bar maids, hit his head against a doorframe and several chandeliers, and stormed out of the inn with too little money and too much anger. </p><p> </p><p>Saddling his horse was slow going as it was, but the knots on his head did not speed things up. By the time his horses hooves had left the grey cobblestones of the city for the beige dusty expanse of the trail, Mr. Marchand was in a mood that was far beyond foul. </p><p> </p><p>"So help me, if I miss even a single turn." Snarled the irritable man. His horse was having similar thoughts, but as horses can't speak, he was forced to keep his own, equally as angry, monologue internal. </p><p> </p><p>It was nightfall before Mr. Marchand finally conceded. He was horribly lost. The gentleman had some things to say about this, but they are best not repeated.</p><p> </p><p>He knew that sign marker was wrong! And yet here he was, traversing a chilly forest that smelled like death. The leaves on the trees that loomed overhead were so dark a green they were almost black. His horse trod on a slim earthen path that seemed a haven among the dark trees, which seemed to be trying to draw ever closer around it. Eventually he lost the very path that had been his security, and was left huddled against his horse. But still he pressed on, he knew not why. </p><p> </p><p>As his horse was about to give out, he saw something through the trees. Light. With a kick that sent his horse rearing, he sped recklessly through the trees, finally stopping at a intricate gate of silvery metal the sparkled in the faint moon light. </p><p> </p><p>If you know the character of this man, you will long since have guessed that he spared no thought for his horse, the owner of his place, or anything besides his tired head and pleading stomach. </p><p> </p><p>And so, he opened the gate. </p><p> </p><p>What a wonderful sight met his eyes! A trim stone laden road lead between magnificent gardens, each awash with the most colorful, radiant flowers anyone would have given their life's savings just to see. </p><p> </p><p>Glowing fountains of water sparkling between these glorious flowers, and beyond it all stood a glimmering castle of white marble. </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Marchand at once forgot all about his aching joints and flew down the road towards that lovely palace. Up the stone steps, through the giant mahogany doors, and into a wonderland. </p><p> </p><p>The entry hall alone would have easily held a thousand. The high fall ceilings lead down to a rich red carpet, and between the two the walls were covered in rich tapestries, splendid frescos, and intricate golden candlesticks. In the very center of all this splendor, a long wooden table sat, filled with golden platters and serving bowls, goblets and pitchers. All of which contained the most choice and delectable food and drink. </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Marchand, after he had calculated how much one of the bowls was worth, suddenly noticed that there was only one place laid on this magnificent table. "Hello?" He called, the sound reverberating off the high ceiling and coming back to him. But no one responded. </p><p> </p><p>"Well," he muttered, a wicked gleam in his eye " if there's no one else to partake, it would be a shame to let all this delicious food go to waste." So saying, he quickly began his feast. </p><p> </p><p>If the flowers in this strange castle were unearthly, the food was from another plane of existence. Mr. Marchand ate his fill, and perhaps a little more, but at long length he pushed back his chair with a sigh. </p><p> </p><p>Looking around him sleepily, he saw that all the candlesticks had gone dark, except for a trail of them leading through a doorway on his left. Standing slowly, he sluggishly followed this lighted path to a door of a peculiar dark wood, where the trail of light ended. </p><p> </p><p>Opening this, he found a bedroom beyond his wildest dreams. All manner of curiosities lay before him, but the only thing he really saw was the lush bed, onto which he threw himself without a moment's delay. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Terrors and Tears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Roses are worth more than you know.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A stray beam of sunlight woke him, many hours later. "Blasted sun, he grumbled "Why do we even need you?" Even the minds of educated former gentlemen are irrational when first roused. </p><p> </p><p>Hurriedly he dressed ( his old clothes had been mysteriously mended and cleaned) and sped out the door to look once more at the beauties this castle had to offer. Outside the door was a small chest containing bright ribbons in a myriad of colors, white flour, and a small parcel that said "For the Forgotten One".  </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Marchand's breathing became somewhat faster at this. "How did they know, have I been watched?" All his greed was forgotten as he spun to look for eyes in the dim shadowy hallway. </p><p> </p><p>He saw nothing, however, and quickly decided that this was just part of the magic of this curious place. Still, Mr. Marchand was more than happy to hurry toward the door to the garden, with many a glance over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Outside in the brilliant sunshine, he breathed a sigh of relief. There could be no terror in so lovely a eden as this. Relaxing slightly, he looked round at the wonder of it all, and saw, about thirty feet away, a rose garden. </p><p> </p><p>He suddenly remembered his Beauty's simple request, and without another thought about watching eyes, plucked a rose. It was as lovely as if it had been made by a fairy queen, and of a crimson so vibrant that it looked as though it had been colored with the blood of a hundred innocent men. And perhaps it had,  for as soon as he had broken the thornless stem, a horrible wail washed over him. </p><p> </p><p>It was a very different Mr. Marchand who stumbled into his cottage that chilly evening. His face was pale and he was holding a magnificent rose, which he clasped so tightly that his knuckles were whiter even than his face. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia had jumped up when he came in, but her confusion at the fear in his eyes left her standing still, nervous and confused. At that moment, Beauty burst into the room, but she too stopped short at their Father's haggard expression. </p><p> </p><p>His next actions did not ease their confusion. </p><p> </p><p>He hurled the rose at Beauty's feet and spat at it. "There's your rose, girl, and I hope you like it, too. It has cost more than a pretty penny." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Decisions and Sacrifices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sophia's Dad reaches a whole new level of jerk wad.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"And it wants one of us for a silly flower?!" Maddie yelped. Beauty sniffled quietly against their Father's knee, while Sophia sat as cold and white as a marble statue. </p><p> </p><p>"Or I'll have to return." Mr. Marchand grumbled, "Yes, that is what the creature demanded." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you mustn't Father! I'll go, it was my stupid request that started this!" Beauty cried. </p><p> </p><p>"Stop that foolishness child, no one has to go! The daft monster would be shot long before he got to us, we've nothing to worry about." Said the man with such confidence, that Sophia almost believed him. </p><p> </p><p>Almost. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you really so blind? If he can conjure food and light candles without even needing to be present, do you honestly think he'll be hurt by bullets? She snapped and then, more quietly:</p><p>You promised, did you not?" Without waiting for an answer she continued: "Then one of us must go." </p><p> </p><p>Her Father turned on her. "And who would you recommend, girl? Thinking of sending your little sister to be eaten?" As he spoke he held up Beauty's tear stained face. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia's eyes flashed. "Never! And unlike you I do not value her for the money a wealthy husband might give for such a "lovely thing" as you call her!" </p><p> </p><p>The man leapt to his feet. "Then who, wench? Would you send your old man? Or your confidant?" </p><p> </p><p>Breathing out she put on her most diplomatic face. "As you'll be pleased to hear, I was recommending myself. " </p><p> </p><p>This stopped her Father in mid yell. He sat down and rubbed his hands together in a slow, thoughtful motion. Sophia had seen this look many times before, when her Father found a good deal for a new ship or some wares. </p><p> </p><p>Her sisters, however, were not so pleased. </p><p> </p><p>" Oh, no you will not!" Shrieked Maddie "We need you Sophy, I'm not going to send you off to be eaten!" </p><p> </p><p>"Please! No! I know we've been horrid to you, but please don't leave! We love you Sophy, we really do! I'll even stop waking you up so early!" Chimed in a still sobbing Beauty. </p><p> </p><p>"You'll leave tomorrow, then?" It was Mr. Marchand, who's face held none of the worry or care of his daughters. </p><p> </p><p>"No Father please!" Screamed her increasingly distraught sisters. </p><p> </p><p>"ENOUGH!" </p><p> </p><p>Everyone froze. Their Father hadn't used that voice since Sophia had misplaced their Mother's wedding ring. Sophia still shivered at the memory. </p><p> </p><p>"If I hear another word of complaint, you two will find yourself in a much less comfortable house. So saying, he gestured in the direction of the town's asylum. Maddie and Beauty cast one more anguish look at Sophia, then slowly nodded. </p><p> </p><p>"Better pack your things, girl." Hummed the man in an almost jovial tone. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia stood, looking around the room, as if she was trying to memorize the faces of her family, and walked slowly towards her room. </p><p> </p><p>Walking towards the stairs, she suddenly noticed a small parcel in her father's saddlebags. On it was a note that seemed to read "For the Forgotten One" but as she looked at it, Sophia found that the words blurred before her eyes until they seemed to say "For Sophia". </p><p> </p><p>Sophia whirled, about to tell her sisters, but she saw that they were still crying and arguing with Mr. Marchand. So, wordlessly she picked up the parcel and ascended the stairs. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Departures and Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sophia's fate is soldified, but her fears are not.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a long time before Sophia fell asleep, indeed it was an eternity before she stopped staring blankly at the wall and  ignoring the salt trails down her cheeks. Finally, she mumbled something about "snapping out of it" and changed into a plain white nightgown. </p><p> </p><p>In her daze at the earth-shattering events that transpired so quickly, Sophia did not remember the parcel from her Father's saddlebags until she sat on it. </p><p> </p><p>"Oops!" She whispered, hoping there was nothing delicate inside. Her worries were soon eased as she quietly opened the it; trying not to spill her tears onto the wrappings. </p><p> </p><p>"Although," she thought "There's really no use worrying at this point, since it's already been squashed." </p><p> </p><p>Inside her eyes might blank whiteness, and in her darkened room it took her a minute to realize what she saw. </p><p> </p><p>"Paper!" She whisper yelled, and then as the rush of joy wore off, so did her shock at the day's events, and hugging the bundle to her chest, she began crying steadily. </p><p> </p><p>The next morning was a blur, full of teary eyes and many a rejected plan to avoid the inevitable. Sophia held on to her sisters with as much as she could, feeling like her heart would break if she even breathed the wrong way. </p><p> </p><p>At last, not even Beauty could convince their Father that they had more to pack. </p><p> </p><p>"Good luck, Sophia." He said, and for just a moment, she thought she saw a hint of regret in his steely eyes. But, then he slapped her mount on the rump, and the horse sprang forward with a startled neigh. </p><p> </p><p>Grabbing quickly on the reins for dear life, the last thing Sophia saw of her family was two weeping figures, and one who was turned away from her. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia remembered very little of that journey, they ran through more fields and woods and valleys than she cared to count. </p><p> </p><p>But she did remember arriving.</p><p> </p><p> It was a cold night, and the castle was a dark silhouette amongst the towering trees. It was all sharp angles and unfathomable gothic designs on that moonless night. The gate she put her hand to was cold enough to make her shiver uncontrollably, and she wondered if dying of starvation might be preferable. </p><p> </p><p>But then she remembered the promise, the promise of a life on her family's part, and the promise of death on…. that thing's part. </p><p> </p><p>And so, leading her mount, Sophia entered the most interesting chapter of her life. </p><p> </p><p>It was dead silent, the only sound the clatterings of her horse's hoofs and the tip tap of her own feet on the cobblestones. </p><p> </p><p>Not wanting to enter the confines of that foreboding castle, Sophia looked around for a stable, and found one fairly easily. At least, she hoped it was a stable, it was rather hard to tell in that suffocating darkness. </p><p> </p><p>The doors opened silently, and Sophia found that her guess had been right. A long line of stalls, all with clean hay and full water buckets. Slowly, Sophia pulled off her horse's saddle and bridle, patted the sturdy animal with a sad smile, and quietly closed the door behind her. </p><p> </p><p>It felt like an eternity before Sophia found herself in front of the great many doors. In reality, it had only been a few minutes, but time is a very different thing for someone who feels like they're being led to a guillotine. </p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath as a desperate attempt to keep her fears at bay, Sophia opened the enormous doors, and stepped inside. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Fire and Fancies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I PROMISE, we will meet the Beast next time, I know, it will happen!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The inside of the castle was just as foreboding as the exterior, but many times more beautiful. Every inch seemed perfectly made to enhance the majesty of this place. </p><p> </p><p>Even Sophia, in her terror and exhaustion filled state, appreciated the meticulous attention to detail on the tapestries and murals. She walked forward, suddenly feeling very small in all this splendour. </p><p> </p><p>What happened next was hard to describe, but to Sophia's tired eyes it looked as though one of the candle flames that glowed forth from the candelabra on the walls had split in half. She jumped back in alarm as half of the flame formed into a small human-like creature. </p><p> </p><p>Not knowing what to do Sophia smiled and bowed, hoping not to enrage this strange being. </p><p> </p><p>After a few seconds, she saw that the fire… thing was smiling and waving its hand in a beckoning gesture. Not sure if she should trust this strange thing, but seeing no alternative, Sophia followed. </p><p> </p><p>The little fire sprite led the bedraggled girl through hallways and up staircases, all as impossibly lovely as the entrance hall. At last however, they arrived at a small door set in a marble arch engraved in a flowery font.  </p><p> </p><p>The font was so intricate it was almost unreadable, but Sophia managed to make out the words "For Sophia". </p><p> </p><p>"Just like the paper…" She muttered. The little flame looked at her inquiringly, but Sophia just shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>"No, it's nothing, it just... reminded me of something." </p><p> </p><p>The sprite still looked unsure, then nodded. Sophia was about to ask the millions and one questions which had been building in her brain all day, but the fiery being vanished in a puff of smoke. </p><p> </p><p>Sophia jumped slightly, but relaxed after a minute as she decided this was probably some strange method of transportation. </p><p> </p><p>Hesitantly, Sophia turned towards the door. </p><p> </p><p>"What if it's a trap or something?" She thought. Then she thought of the paper again and sighed. </p><p> </p><p>"No, even if he is a monster, he was kinder to me in one gift then my Father has been in ten years." This she said aloud, trying to instill in herself some measure of confidence. To her surprise, it worked, calming her nerves just enough to walk through the third nerve wracking door that day. </p><p> </p><p>Emboldened, Sophia opened the door and peered inside. Even in her exhausted state, she gasped. She had never seen something so beautifully…. her! </p><p> </p><p>The walls were a soft buttery yellow, with a delicate pattern with blue-flowering vines on the ivory molding at the top.</p><p> </p><p> The bed stood on a sort of platform at the center of the room, it's four posts carved to look like trees reaching their branches into the heavens. This effect was heightened by the fact that the canopy the held aloft was a luxurious sky blue, which perfectly matched the flowers on the walls. </p><p> </p><p>Along the far wall was a fireplace with a plush sapphire colored arm chair. Nearby, a writing desk of dark wood stood at attention, bearing more crisp white paper than Sophia had ever seen in one place. </p><p> </p><p>The "artist instinct" as Maddie had dubbed it, rushed into Sophia with a vengeance. She walked over to the writing desk with as much speed as possible in her current level of sleep deprivation. </p><p> </p><p>In fact, it was this sleep deprivation (mixed with a rather unfortunate tendency to acquire bruises) that caused Sophia to completely miss the large porcelain tub that stood between her and all that glorious paper. </p><p> </p><p>"Owch!" She grumbled, holding her thigh "Why am I such an imbecile?" </p><p> </p><p>She looked down irritably at the cause of her pain, and realized it might also be the cure for some of her other discomforts. </p><p> </p><p>Sparing one more longing glance at the desk, then down at her travel-worn gown, Sophia nodded resolutely. </p><p> </p><p>The bath water was just the perfect temperature, and somehow contrived to smell like oranges. Sophia would very well, have fallen asleep, if not for the weight on her mind. What was her fate to be? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Wanderings and a Witness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You know what time it is ;)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That thought roused her. With a small sigh, she hoisted herself from the orange-scented heaven and looked around for her clothes. Much to her surprise, they had vanished into thin air! </p><p> </p><p>In their place lay a lavender gown of a velvet that reminded her of the lambs ear in Beauty's garden. </p><p> </p><p>The thought of her sister stung, and she hurriedly pushed it to the back of her already overwhelmed mind. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, Sophia busied herself in slipping on the ivory undergarments, corset, and lastly, the luxurious gown. </p><p> </p><p>Smiling at the comforting touch of velvet under her fingers, Sophia walked over to a large dresser opposite the bed. There, a hairbrush sprung to attention. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm just going to have to get used to that, I suppose." Murmured the startled artist. </p><p> </p><p>The hairbrush managed to tame her thick mane of waves into a long braid that curled gracefully around her head. </p><p> </p><p>When she put up her hand to touch the lovely style, the hairbrush responded by swatting lightly at her hand. </p><p> </p><p>This was so unexpected, that Sophia gave out a delighted little giggle. Then sobered as the hairbrush bobbed up and down, indicating the door. </p><p> </p><p>"Time to see what's going to see how my death will play out." Sophia chuckled wryly, and walked out of her safe haven. </p><p> </p><p>Time seemed simultaneously to move too slowly and too quickly. But Sophia paid her addled interpretation of time no heed as she wandered through more spectacular rooms than she could have fathomed in ten lifetimes. </p><p> </p><p>At long last, she practically stumbled into a room that perfectly matched her Father's description of the dining room. </p><p> </p><p>Of course, she couldn't be sure, but from the little she could make out in the gloom, it matched her Father's words perfectly. </p><p> </p><p>The darkness in this room seemed like a sea of ink, whereas the other rooms were shrouded in grey mists. </p><p> </p><p>Shadows abounded, but across from Sophia, one particularly large one lurked. Seated at the opposite end of the table, but it stood out for more than just it's enormity. </p><p> </p><p>The other shadows didn't have eyes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Confrontation and Coversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Good Evening Sophia" said the shadow, in a voice that seemed to be a strange fusion of snarl and regular speech. </p><p>"Good evening sir" Sophia managed. She squinted trying to understand what the shadow reminded her of, but the thick darkness prevented her. All she saw were two crimson eyes, like two bright coals staring back at her. She shuddered. </p><p>A thunderous rumble that could have been a sigh echoed in the midnight blackness of that hall. </p><p>"You have nothing to fear from me, Sophia. I know you have no reason to believe me, but, I cannot lie to you."</p><p>These words shook Sophia down to the very bone. He (or it) was right, she had no reason to trust him. But it wasn't this that caused the tremors through her body. </p><p>She hadn't expected him to even speak to her, believing that she was walking to her own grave. The fact that he was talking to her at all, much less promising that no harm would come to her, almost scared her more than what she'd imagined. </p><p>But curiosity prevailed.</p><p>"If I may sir, why am I here?"</p><p>"You are here because your Father took something that I prize above all else. And, please, do not call me sir. You must know what I am."</p><p>"Very well si- Beast." Although it felt wrong to address any rational being as such. </p><p>At her words the great shadow shook slightly, as though sighing or even holding back a sob. </p><p>If she wasn't already taken aback, she was even more so now. It would seem that the terror her Father raved about possessed feelings! </p><p>The silence pressed in on Sophia, so hastily she asked: "Please, if you aren't going to harm me, why am I here?" </p><p>After a long moment the darkness answered: "If you hadn't noticed already, I don't have too many people to talk to." </p><p>Sophia mused on this. "It would seem I was right about him having feelings" she thought, "but now what?" </p><p>Finally, she decided something. </p><p>"If I am to be your conversation partner, I'd like to do it face to face." Sophia announced, hoping she wouldn't live to regret her boldness. </p><p>There was a long pause. Her words filled the air long after they'd left her lips. </p><p>"While I appreciate the concept of more normal conversation, my face is…. in high contrast to the rest of the castle." </p><p>"I know." </p><p>"Then why do you want to see me?"</p><p>Why indeed? Sophia considered the loaded question carefully, trying to ignore the eyes that followed her every move. </p><p>"Well, I suppose because it would best to not postpone the inevitable." She said determinedly at length. </p><p>Something, almost a laugh came from the shadowy chair. </p><p>"Very well! You have some spirit in you, Mademoiselle artist! Although you may live to regret it." He stood slowly. </p><p>Gracious! He had seemed imposing while he was seated, but now he seemed to tower over her, even from the other end of the room. Then he slowly began walking towards her. </p><p>Sophia flinched, but remained resolute. Even as she began to make out certain details, like the fact that his pupils were just black slits in the midst of red, or the strange spiney shapes sticking out around his neck. And of course, she couldn't forget the long, curved shapes that were too sharp to be anything but claws. </p><p>Sophia froze, unable to speak but fully able to experience terror. </p><p>Then, the lights came on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Consternation and Consideration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The moment you've all been waiting for! At long last!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took everything in her not to scream. Every cell in her body, every fiber, begged her to run, run and never look back. </p><p>But she didn't. </p><p>Her "host" stood about fifteen feet away, and his appearance really did contradict the castle's loveliness. </p><p>The only way to describe his shape was to bring to mind the image of sone demented centaur. His upper body was mostly bird-like, reminiscent of a crow or some other corvid.Despite the abundant light his form was still dark, covered in inky black feathers. </p><p>While his lower half was that of a large centipede. This insectoid appearance carried over some to his upper half, where two mandible splits off at the base of his beak, and instead of wings his arms gathered up in front of him like a praying mantis. </p><p>His eyes glittered down at her, eyeing her with an emotion she couldn't fathom. </p><p>She wanted to do a million things, and nothing at the same time. Should she run, or would he chase? Should she scream, or would that anger him? Should she-</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>She forced her eyes to focus on him and breathed for the first time in minutes. "What?"</p><p>"For frightening you, I had not intended to show myself for quite some time. Unfortunately for both of us, you are very persuasive, and it would seem I am weak." </p><p>Sophia didn't know how to respond to that. </p><p>As she struggled to think of something, anything to say, he looked at her sadly, bowed his head and left. </p><p>She did not stop running until she crashed through the door to her room. </p><p>She flipped over so many times, walked, screamed into her pillow, yet sleep remained elusive. </p><p>She sighed, sitting up abruptly, and allowed her eyes to scan the room. They caught on something white, and before she could even process it, she was out of bed, and for the first time in an eternity; Sophia drew.</p>
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